Hold up your palm against the screen. All the way up. All up on it… Press
hard, until the screen contorts slightly. Until there’s a visible imprint of
the oils from every nook and cranny of your hand, from every single line.
I want this exact moment in time (of your palm) crammed into the screen’s
metaphorical fabric.

PRESS HARDER.

Alright, that ought to be good enough. What I’m doing is reading your palm. :)

I’m so sorry, but the spirits coursing through our veins and air don’t lie,
(hats off to Zamenhof, the best deity <3) I’m afraid. The results I’m about
to tell you are final, static, unchanging. They’ll be a constant in your life,
looming over you every day. Every time you catch a glance of your palm, you’ll
be reminded of this prophecy, and your soul will be crushed as you realize
it’s slowly unfolding before you…

First off, the positives. You’ll be pretty happy, overcome obstacles, and
it looks like you’ll probably beat up a few people who deserve it (That latter
bit wasn’t told to me by the spirits– that I just picked up from your callouses).

Second off, the negatives. You’re going to watch Minions on repeat for a few
hours, guzzle cabbage water (how strange), and end up dead at some point.

There was this last little prediction Zamenhof whispered in my ear (oh god his
voice is so hot). Translated, it was this: “Here is the most important truth of
their life: á̖l̝͔̬̠̗̳̥͡i̷̲̤̦̭t͙i͍̩͚͉͟e̺̺͚s̥ͅ ̬̩h̡a̮̩̬͔̘v̝̣e͚̞ ͇̭̥̥̳ḁ̣͙̻s̰̙͝s̫é̻͍̝̬mb̦̪̹͈̘̕l̰̞̤͚e̺̣d͉͈̠̗̜ ̀in̮̯̪ ̡͎̰Ḷ͓̪̣̭͠ó̜̫͎…”

For the last bit, I started getting some static, I’m afraid. I tried moving the
rabbit-ears, of course, but nothing happened. Just shit connection. So, make
what you will of that last bit. I hope it wasn’t too important.

Anyway, good luck with the soul-crushing reality of those predictions.

If you need help with your impending existential crisis, the answers are here.